Midnight by Anna Dove (books for new readers .TXT) 📕

them to their constituents and allows them to sit in the opulence of the heart of Washington. When we see them on the street, we want their picture, their autograph, their remarks, we want a piece of the life that they have. We see them on the television larger than life, the cameras catching their every reaction. And to be sure, save for a very few noble souls, humility is not the most prominent of traits among the members.

But when your life is torn out from under you, when you do not know if your precious children are dead, when you cannot be assured that your wife or husband is still breathing, when every shred of safety and functionality has been unceremoniously ripped like a brutal scalping from the nation that you have decided to lead, when you are forced into underground tunnels and trains  that cannot reach the light of day, and then plummeted nine hundred feet down toward the molten core of the earth, you become someone quite different. The most raw instincts and emotions begin to surface, especially tendencies towards self-preservation.

For twenty-four hours after the attack, a continuous stream of people flowed into Chimaugua Bunker; Members of Congress, police, military officials, the one Supreme Court justice who could be found, and cabinet members found themselves in the grim steel corridors, being directed by guards to their quarters and to the conference rooms.

The First Lady Adela Gilman sat on her bunk. She had been directed to a dormitory room with eight sets of trim steel bunk beds. One pillow, one blanket. She regarded the bed with disdain, and then changed into the clothing that they provided to everyone. Upon entry each person had been given a tan aviator-style jumpsuit that zipped from the belly button to the neck and carried a loose elasticity at the presumed waistline. Adela pondered glumly on the similarity of her situation to that of an inmate. She had not anticipated Chimaugua Bunker being so distasteful.

The door opened and another woman entered, a short round brunette with red lips and pale face.

“Oh--I’m sorry,” she began, but Adela waved her hand, defaulting to the charm that had helped her husband win his presidency.

“Nonsense, now is no time for apologies. What’s your name?”

“Congresswoman Anna Martin, from District 1 in Pennsylvania.” Anna stepped forward and shook Adela’s outstretched hand, and then covered it with her other hand and burst into tears.

“I just can’t take it,” Anna wept. “I can’t take it. My husband is up there. I have a three year old son. He just turned three last week. We had a party with balloons and trucks. He loves trucks. I just can’t take it. I need to be with him.” She released Adela’s hand and wrapped her arms around Adela’s slim frame.

Adela stroked the woman’s hair soothingly.

“There there,” she said as Anna’s round frame shook from head to toe in misery. “The worst is now; we will figure it all out. I’m sure that they will be alright. Let us hope and pray, yes? And let us work toward justice, toward making sure that whoever did this receives his due penalty.”

The door opened, and Reed appeared. Adela saw him, and dropped her arms.

“Will you give us a moment, Anna?” she asked the crying woman, who started when she saw the chief of staff.

“Why--yes, of course,” stammered Anna, and wiping her eyes, stepped from the room. Reed nodded to her as she exited.

He stepped into the room, closing the door quietly, and approached Adela quickly. He took her hands in his, and then dropping them, wrapped his arms around her.

“My beautiful sweetheart,” he said, in a low tone into her ear.

“Hello,” she responded, and pulling back so that her face was close to his, kissed him.

“You are alright?”

“Quite.”

“Mentally?”

“Yes.”

“Physically?”

“Yes.”

“Emotions?”

“In tact.”

“It is done,” he said wonderingly, excitedly, still speaking very softly. “They were all perfectly complicit. I am glad that we have so many people that we can rely on. Very well executed.”

“Very well executed,” she repeated. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, in every way. I am ready. I am ready to see to the next step.”

“Is the Vice President alive?”

“No,” said Reed. “He was easy to dispense with. He was dead before they even got to him. One less hurdle to overcome.”

Adela smirked, her beautiful lips curling cruelly.

“I never liked him,” she said. “Even when he was just a friend of my husband’s.”

“No one knows that he’s dead yet--don’t say anything.”

“I will be as silent as his grave.”

Reed smiled at her, his face close to hers.

“Do you remember when we first met?” she said suddenly.

“Of course. At that party, when your husband was fundraising for running for governor.”

“I fell in love with you from the minute I realized you were so much like me.”

“What, you mean perfect?”

She smiled.

“No. I mean what you wanted. You looked at something, you wanted it, you took it. You did not waste time, or spare feelings. That night when you convinced my husband to make you his Chief of Staff, that’s when I knew I loved you.”

“I’ll never give up on something that I want,” he said. “I wanted Chief of Staff. I wanted you. Look at me now.”

“Yes...look at you now.”

Reed kissed her and then pulled away.

“I have to go,” he said. “The closer I stay to your husband, the more influence I have on these next steps.”

“Godspeed,” said Adela, raising her hand as Reed went from the room.

+

James Landon sat in the aviator-style attire provided, with his hands clasped in front of him, intently staring at a black speck on the steel wall in front of him. His mind raced. This was it, then. Not a nuclear strike. No, that was far too paltry and kind;